


Ain't it Fun?

by EchoResonance



Series: Sheith Week 2k16 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoResonance/pseuds/EchoResonance
Summary: “It’s okay not to be okay,” Keith continued, his voice losing some of its edge. “This wouldn’t be the real world if everything was fine all the time. It’s how you deal with the not-fine things that’s important. You taught me that, remember?”Shiro sniffed, but gave a jerky nod, and Keith continued.“We’re a team, and we’re all here for each other. We’re here for you. I’m here for you. Just...just let someone support you. Stop acting like you have to be strong all the time, or it’ll kill you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sheith week 2k16, Day Four: Flashback/Reality

It happened again in training. Everything had been going fine with the gladiator; it was a simple team exercise, one of the first ones they’d ever even _done_. They were moving in sync with each other, hardly perfect but aware of where everyone else was at the very least. Even Keith and Lance had been cooperating, and Shiro had been proud. True, they were still barely holding their own, but they had all chalked that up to Coran bumping up the level whenever it looked like they started to get into a groove.

Then the gladiator lunged at Shiro. Only, it wasn’t the gladiator. Dark, impersonal walls rose around him, a ceiling veined with violet lights closed above his head. A dimly lit cell contracted all around him, and soldiers—too many to count—moved in on him with weapons drawn. They weren’t aiming to kill; merely stun. He was more valuable alive, after all. The Druids’ greatest experiment. It wouldn’t do to kill the Champion.

Something heavy slammed into him, sending him toppling to the floor and he cringed, waiting for a blow to the head, a kick to the gut. It didn’t come. Someone was yelling his name. He blinked once, twice, and realized the room he was in was wide and open, brightly lit to the point that it hurt his eyes, and the floor beneath him was clean. The weight on top of him shifted, and he watched in a daze as Keith leapt to his feet, shield brandished just in time to deflect another attack from the gladiator.

Nobody mentioned it afterwards, but Shiro knew they had noticed. He trudged back to his quarters without a word, humiliation burning in his throat and frustration stinging his eyes. Some leader he was; broken, unstable. In the midst of an attack he froze up, lost himself somewhere completely separate, and what good was that to anybody?

Not long after he escaped the others, though, his door hummed and slid open. Keith stepped in, squinting in the dark room, and locked the door behind him before moving to crouch in front of Shiro. He had changed out of his armor and into his earth clothes, though he’d done a hasty job of it, if his mussed hair and lack of gloves was any indication. Keith didn’t touch him, too wary of what might set him off. Shiro bit his tongue against his shame.

“Shiro,” Keith murmured.

Shiro flinched, and Keith sighed.

“Shiro, baby, c’mon,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

After a moment, Shiro swallowed his own self-pity and took Keith’s offered hand in his left. His fingers engulfed the other paladin’s almost entirely, but there was strength in Keith’s grip when he helped pull him to his feet. He stood quietly as Keith tugged off his helmet first, running his fingers briefly through the sweat-matted hair clumped against his forehead. Then he moved on to the armor itself, undoing the clasps with practiced, nimble movements and setting each piece carefully on the bed behind Shiro when he removed it, knowing how he preferred to keep things orderly. He just started tugging at the zipper of the bodysuit underneath when Shiro reached up to touch his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Keith frowned up at him, turning one hand to lace their fingers together.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said firmly. “Nobody is upset with you, Shiro. We understand.”

Shiro closed his eyes and leaned down, setting his chin on the crown of Keith’s head.

 _Do you?_ he wanted to ask. Because he didn’t believe they got it it, not really. He knew they didn’t blame him for his episodes, and he knew they thought no less of him for them, but if they knew what some of them _were_ … If they knew the horrors that lurked in his head…

“Shiro, I know you’re scared,” Keith sighed, releasing Shiro’s hand to place his palms flat against Shiro’s chest. “And I’m not—I’m not gonna be stupid and say I know what you’re going through. But I understand that you’re scared. And I want to be here for you, I want to help, but I just...I don’t know how.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispered. “It’s not...It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Keith growled, leaning in until his forehead touched Shiro’s collar. “And I get it if you don’t feel like I’m what you need in all of this, but I don’t like just—just watching it happen. I can’t _stand_ seeing you so scared and not being able to _do_ anything, I—”

Shiro jerked back and clapped a hand over Keith’s mouth. The man blinked up at him, expression clouded with confusion, and it broke Shiro’s heart a little.

“Keith, I will never, _ever_ , _not_ need you,” he croaked. “If it weren’t for you, there would be days when I couldn’t even get up in the mornings, nights when I couldn’t even sleep.”

A small noise escaped Keith and, muffled though it was, Shiro realized with horror that it was a small sob. He moved his hand away from Keith’s face and slid it back into his mane of shaggy hair, curled his palm around the base of his head.

“I just feel so _useless_ ,” Keith ground out, and his fingers fisted in the material of Shiro’s suit. “All this training, and I can’t do anything to help you, and I just—”

“Keith, stop,” Shiro said firmly. Keith did, glowering balefully at Shiro’s chin. “You can’t fix everything in the universe, okay? You can’t fight everything with that sword and your fists.”

“I can damn sure try,” he grumbled. Shiro’s lips twitched but his humor didn’t last.

“This is...it’s my burden to bear,” Shiro continued, heart heavy and aching. “The things I remember...and the things I don’t. I can’t ask any of you to deal with this. You all deserve better from me; you deserve a better leader, someone...someone whole. I’m...broken, and I’m _sorry_ for what it’s doing to you—to all of you. _God_ I’m sorry, you deserve so much better, and I...damnit…”

When Keith jerked back from Shiro, he wasn’t surprised, and the outrage in his expression was predictable. But there was an unmistakable sheen to his eyes and quiver to his lip, and he released Shiro just to jab a finger into his sternum.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he seethed, and Shiro had half a mind to take a step back from the blazing look in Keith’s eyes. “This team is the team we have. There is _no point_ in saying ‘we deserve better,’ because this is what we’ve got. And _you_ are the one that’s always going on and on about acting like a team, talking things through together, making decisions _together_.”

Every time he emphasised a word, he jabbed Shiro again.

“You are not _broken,_ Shiro. You have PTSD, and so help me if you try to convince me with a straight face that you would call any other person with the same problem _broken_ , I will pitch myself out the nearest airlock. There isn’t _better_ than you. You’re our leader and there’s nobody else we’d rather have. You brought us together in an impossible timeframe, and if that doesn’t say enough by itself, let’s put the cherry on top: _you get me and Lance to cooperate_.”

Shiro couldn’t meet his gaze; Keith’s passion scalded him, burned everywhere and stealing his air, making it impossible for him to breath.

“It’s okay not to be okay,” Keith continued, his voice losing some of its edge. “This wouldn’t be the real world if everything was fine all the time. It’s how you deal with the not-fine things that’s important. _You_ taught me that, remember?”

Shiro sniffed, but gave a jerky nod, and Keith continued.

“We’re a team, and we’re all here for each other. We’re here for you. _I’m here for you_ . Just...just let someone support you. Stop acting like you _have_ to be strong all the time, or it’ll kill you.”

The thickness in Keith’s voice furthered Shiro’s desire to avoid any and all eye contact. But it was that same low, pained sound coming from the person he cared for most in the universe that brought his attention back around at last, because he couldn’t stand for Keith to be upset. He couldn’t take it, especially when Keith was upset _with him_. And it’s the look on Keith’s face that does it. Trembling lip and furrowed brow and eyes shining far too brightly in the dim lighting, and Shiro felt his last tenuous hold on composure crack and fall away, and when he opened his mouth to speak all that left was a broken sob.

And like that, the steady foundation he’d been building crumbled to dust at his feet. How long Shiro stood there, clinging to Keith like a child to his mother, was anybody’s guess. How long it took before Keith gently guided his hands away, kissing both of them before placing them at Shiro’s sides, he didn’t know. How long he cried, while Keith carefully guided him out of his sweat-stained bodysuit and kissed every scar in the process, no matter how small, nobody could tell.

All he knew was that eventually his eyes ran dry and Keith was cradling his head gently against his chest, fingers sliding through the mop of hair at his crown. He didn’t say anything to Shiro as he held him, because there was nothing to say, and Shiro was okay with that. The silence was welcoming, accepting, and when he finally hiccuped himself into it, he was surprised at how comforting it all was. There was an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes and he knew his face was colored blotchily, but wrapped in Keith’s embrace and free to just _let go_ , it was hard to feel anything but content.

“Come on, handsome,” Keith murmured, tapping Shiro’s shoulder. “You need a shower. You kind of reek.”

In spite of himself and the situation, Shiro managed a chuckle. He stepped back, hastily swiping at the moisture smeared across his cheeks and very aware that he looked like a complete wreck. However, the soft way Keith looked up at him, eyes glowing in a completely separate way from the furious blaze that had taken them earlier, made him feel like it didn’t matter. And when Keith smiled? God, Shiro wanted to cry all over again.

Instead, he turned and retrieved a towel from where it lay folded in his dresser. Team or no, nobody needed him walking through the halls stark-naked to get to the public showers, especially if Pidge was in the middle of one of their usual all-nighters. Perish the thought.

Wordlessly Keith held out his left hand. Shiro hesitated, right hand twitching against his hip, then cautiously placed the cybernetic fingers against Keith’s palm. The other man rolled his eyes and took Shiro’s hand in a vice-like grip. Then without a backward glance he towed Shiro from his room in the direction of the showers, and Shiro allowed himself a shaky smile.

No, the real world wasn’t all pretty. In fact, he could remember the exact conversation Keith had mentioned earlier. It had been after somebody had picked a fight with him at the Garrison, insulting his parentage, his childhood, things Shiro had never even known about until that moment. Keith hadn’t risen to the bait, had handled it with a remarkably level head, but afterwards Shiro had found him in the training room trying to beat the punching bag clear off its fixture.

_“I’m impressed by how you handled that kid.”_

_“Asshole. Should’ve knocked his teeth in.”_

_“Looks like you’re doing a number on that punching bag instead.”_

_“Less trouble from the professors.”_

_“Keith?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“Why didn’t you ever tell me? About your parents?”_

_“Didn’t think it was important.”_

_“What if I do?”_

_“You’ll have to hold the pity party without me. I don’t need it.”_

_“I wasn’t offering my pity. I wanted to tell you I’m...proud. Of you.”_

_“...Why?”_

_“Because a lot of people get hung up on the idea of perfection. Perfect looks, perfect families, perfect lives.”_

_“Idiots.”_

_“Let’s call them idealists. But the real world isn’t that nice. It’s hard, and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except roll with the punches.”_

_“Are you going somewhere with this?”_

_“Patience. Most people...most people don’t have to learn that firsthand. I know I didn’t. And sometimes it makes accepting things we can’t change harder. But you don’t focus on the negative; you focus on getting around it. Or, ah, punching through it.”_

_“Hmph.”_

_“What I’m trying to say is that it’s how a person handles the negatives that shows you who they are. And Keith?”_

_“_ What _?”_

_“You’re stronger and smarter than some people twice your age.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So what are you gonna do  
> When the world don't orbit around you?  
> So what are you gonna do  
> When the world don't orbit around you?  
> Ain't it fun  
> Living in the real world?  
> Ain't it good  
> Being all alone?


End file.
